


All the Time in the World

by tiredfangirl



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Body Image, Body Worship, Fat-Positive Nandor, Internalized Fatphobia, M/M, No Plot, No Porn, Vampire Guillermo de la Cruz, Weight Issues, just feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:55:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26908495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiredfangirl/pseuds/tiredfangirl
Summary: "The blank reflection in the mirror is both a blessing and a curse."Guillermo, a newly-turned vampire, is struggling with the reality of living forever in his body.
Relationships: Guillermo de la Cruz/Nandor the Relentless
Comments: 11
Kudos: 88





	All the Time in the World

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited to post my first work in this fandom! I watched WWDITS for the first time a couple of weeks ago, then immediately watched it all again, and have thought of little else ever since. Guillermo has officially taken over my life. 
> 
> A few notes about this one:
> 
> \-- This is set after season 2. Nandor has recently turned Guillermo, and they are exploring a romantic relationship. 
> 
> \-- Nandor is less of a himbo here than he is in the canon, but I tried to stay true to his character as much as I could while still projecting all my feelings onto Guillermo. Haha. 
> 
> \-- No sex, but Nandor is in just his undies for most of the fic, and Guillermo is for a good bit of it, too. Lots of body worship. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The blank reflection in the mirror is both a blessing and a curse.

Pushing down the occasional moment of disdain for his body felt easier when that body was temporary, when the thickness of his arms and the extra weight around his waist and the fleshier parts of his chest could all be - hypothetically at least - subject to change. Ignoring the dark twisting in his stomach when he felt his thighs brushing against one another or his chin doubling as he leaned over to tie his shoes or the knit of a once-favorite cardigan stretching across his wide hips didn’t seemed so difficult when he could imagine a future of evening jogs and calorie-counting regimens, when he could lean into the diet culture bullshit that insisted his next diet would be the one that took.

When he imagined his eternal vampiric life, it never occurred to him that it’d be in this body.

He’s standing - out of habit, he supposes - in front of the full-length mirror in the blue room. His sweater lies discarded nearby, his button-up shirt hangs open, and he scowls as his fingers trace gently across the web of stretch marks along his belly. His initial elation at finally being turned has begun to give way to the reality that he’s now got eternity ahead of him as a vampire. Few aspects of his unholy transition have come as a surprise - after so many years living with vampires, Guillermo knew mostly what to expect - but he’s been unexpectedly struck tonight by the realization that he will be spending eternity in this unsightly, undesirable body.

The sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway shakes Guillermo from his thoughts and sends panic shivering down his spine.

“Guillermo?” Nandor calls, his voice inching closer as Guillermo tries to shake himself from fear-induced paralysis in time to find his sweater. “Are you up here?”

“Uh, just a-“ The door swings open forcefully before Guillermo can finish voicing his protest, and Nandor stops in his tracks, jaw slightly ajar, at the half-dressed sight of his former familiar.

“Guill- _er-_ mo,” Nandor quickly recovers, chuckling softly and reaching to unfasten his cape as he glides through the blue room. “And here I thought we were _‘taking things slow!’”_

Guillermo’s brain, fuzzy with anxiety and dread, finally catches up to Nandor’s only as the older vampire starts piling his own clothing in a small heap next to the bed, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at him. Nandor is right - Guillermo _did_ ask to take things slow - and the sight of his former master stripping down in his crypt makes it hard to (habitually if unnecessarily) breathe for a number of reasons. Most pressingly, the cautious new relationship on which they’re endeavoring together, an unsteady romance that falters frequently over the instinctive gripping of a stake or a habitual expectation that someone else will take out the trash, suddenly feels liable to crumble apart altogether. Guillermo’s most self-loathing conjectures quickly overwhelm him and, to both Nandor’s and his own horror, he bursts into tears.

Nandor, now clad just in his underthings as he drops his last sock onto his pile of clothes, looks up sharply. “Um - Guillermo?” he stammers, clearly confused and discomforted by his own apparent misreading of the situation. “Come on,” he jokes awkwardly, “Surely I do not look so ugly as to call for the crying.”

Guillermo, tears still racing down his face, gives a dark, humorless laugh, the irony completely unbearable. “No,” he bites, “If anyone should be crying here, it’s definitely you. I’m obviously getting the better deal in this little scenario.”

Nandor takes several steps forward and places his large hands firmly on his partner’s shaking shoulders. “Guillermo,” he says at length, “I am very sorry that you’re so upset. But I have no fucking idea what’s going on right now.” After another moment, Nandor wraps his arms around him in a tight hug. Guillermo’s body feels like it’s going to tear itself apart as the instinct to lean in and accept comfort wars with the instinct to run away, to suck in his stomach, to keep Nandor from feeing his body so closely.

“Come,” Nandor finally says, stepping back slightly as Guillermo’s tears begin to subside. “Let’s sit down.” He moves to the bed next to Guillermo’s new coffin and sits silently as Guillermo carefully buttons up his shirt, finds his sweater, and pulls it on, though his fidgeting hands and the way his eyes closely follow Guillermo’s movements both betray his uncomfortable impatience.

When Guillermo finally joins Nandor on the bed, he is careful to settle himself as far from Nandor as he can. His shoulders are hunched and he conspicuously avoids eye contact as he perches just on the bed’s far corner. He tugs gently at his sweater and curls his arms together, still feeling vulnerable and underdressed even as Nandor sits beside him nearly nude. 

When the long-enduring silence finally makes it clear that Nandor is not going to say anything, Guillermo takes a deep breath and murmurs, “I wasn’t. Y’know. Getting ready for sex.”

He chances a glance over his shoulder, and Nandor is nodding at him very seriously. “Yes,” he agrees, “I kind of figured that out.”

Nandor continues to watch him, his eyes holding an intensity Guillermo has seldom seen there before. Guillermo takes a shaky breath before trying to explain further, “I was just, uh, thinking, I guess. About eternal life. About . . . me . . . being a vampire.”

At this, Nandor’s face crumbles. “You are not happy,” he surmises. “You no longer wish to spend eternity as my vampire partner.”

“No!” Guillermo’s body reacts more quickly than his brain, and he takes Nandor’s hand in his own and squeezes it gently to reassure him. “That’s not it, Nandor. That’s not it at all.”

“O-kay,” Nandor still seems skeptical. “So, what are you thinking about then?” His eyebrows furrow and he adds, “And why is it requiring you to be naked?”

“It’s not-“ Guillermo cuts himself off, scrunching up his face as he searches for the right words. How is one to explain one’s most gut-wrenching insecurities to one’s beautiful, 700 year-old, immortal former-master-turned-not-quite-lover? He takes another deep and vestigial breath, though the feeling of cold air suddenly rushing through his empty lungs is not one he’s yet grown used to and is not entirely reassuring. The relentless gaze of Nandor’s deep brown eyes, too, is more nerve-wracking then comforting, and Guillermo tries to remember that he stares because he cares. At length, he looks down at his free hand and murmurs, “Nandor, I was thinking about my body.”

“O-kay?”

Every self-preservation instinct Guillermo’s ever had - and, as a vampire slayer, that’s a lot of instincts - is screaming at him to run. Surely ending this conversation and hypnotizing Nandor (come to think of it, can vampires hypnotize other vampires? He really needs to start writing down his vampire questions.) is the only way to get past this monumental embarrassment. Still, something about the sincerity with which Nandor continues to wait and to listen, a sincerity Guillermo might mistake for genuine patience in someone he knew less well but which he understands in this case to be Nandor’s best imitation, compels him to keep choking out words he’s sure will cause nothing less than irreparable damage to their new partnership; he’s been relying so far on ignoring his insecurities and hoping Nandor will do the same.

Even looking at his own hand is too overwhelming, so Guillermo closes his eyes tight before he speaks again. “I was thinking about how I’m _fat_ ,” the word is barely a whisper, burning Guillermo in a way that rivals even holy water on his undead skin, “And I’m. Y’know. Going to be fat for eternity now.”

“O-kay?” At the sound of what seems to be real confusion in Nandor’s voice, Guillermo dares to glance up at him. “And this is . . . causing you to be . . . upset?” Nandor ventures slowly.

Something in Guillermo snaps. He jumps up from the bed, his vision blurred by a blinding cocktail of shame, anger, and disbelief. “Yes, I am upset!” He snaps. Nandor flinches back, and Guillermo keeps talking at an increasingly unreasonable volume. “I’m upset that I had over ten fucking years to get ready to be turned and am still stuck spending eternity looking like this because I couldn’t be bothered to take my ass to the gym! I’m upset that you, for some reason, are pretending not to notice the problem with my stupid fucking body! I’m upset that some night, probably sooner rather than later, you’re gonna wake up and look at me and think, _What the fuck am I doing with this guy?_ and leave me for some random hot person, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it because I’m stuck like this for-fucking-ever!”

A beat passes. Guillermo stands perfectly still, eyes screwed shut, hands clenched in fists at his sides, more terrified of Nandor’s reaction to his rant than of a whole theatre full of would-be vampire assassins.

“ _Guillermo_.” Nandor’s whisper is so reverent it might have been a prayer, so sorrowful it might have been a requiem. Strong arms wrap themselves around the ex-familiar, their hold tight and unrelenting until Guillermo, exhausted from the crying and from the shame and from the yelling, grows more pliant in their grip.

“I’m sorry,” Guillermo finally breathes out, his voice broken again by tears. “I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“Guillermo,” Nandor whispers again, and Guillermo looks up with a start to see tears pouring down Nandor’s face, too. “My heart breaks for you, my beautiful Guillermo.”

“I’m not-“ Guillermo can’t fight the urge to protest, but Nandor cuts him off.

“What I would not give that you might see yourself as I see you.”

The sincerity in Nandor’s voice makes Guillermo’s still heart jump in his chest. “Show me,” he whispers impulsively, his voice all but silent. At the uncertain look in Nandor’s eyes, he adds a tortured, “ _Please,_ Nandor. I want to believe you.”

Nandor gives only the faintest of nods before guiding Guillermo gently back to the bed. Guillermo sits on the edge and watches as Nandor fusses unnecessarily with the pillows and then gestures for Guillermo to lie back. He does, swinging his socked feet up onto the bed and resting his head in the middle of the just-fluffed pile of pillows. The sight of Nandor, still mostly naked, about to join him on the bed makes anxiety rise again in the back of his throat. “Could we blow out the candles?” he asks softly.

Nandor pauses, one knee on the bed, apparently considering this request. “I will blow out a few,” he concedes, “If that is what you want. But not all of them. I want to see you.” As Nandor crosses the room to extinguish the candles on the dresser, Guillermo scooches under the covers. He feels a little silly lying under the blankets with his pants, shirt, and sweater all still on, but the comforter lives up to its name as he pulls it up to his chin, burrowing in to protect himself from further vulnerability.

When Nandor turns back around, Guillermo fully expects him to scoff at him for hiding under the sheets. Instead, Nandor wordlessly slips into bed beside him, sliding close to Guillermo and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. For a long while, the two vampires lie quietly in the warm candlelight. Nandor teases his fingers slowly back and forth through the curls of Guillermo’s hair. Eventually, he says, “There are many things, Guillermo, that I do not understand.” He places a hand lightly on Guillermo’s side, just below his belly button, where the palatial curve of his hip meets the soft underside of his belly. He frowns when Guillermo flinches and tenses. Nandor turns, propping himself up on his elbow and allowing his fingers to curl slightly into the sweater-clad flesh beneath them. “How could you ever find fault with a body such as this?”

Guillermo’s eyebrows furrow in shame and confusion. “I - feel for yourself, Nandor,” he stammers weakly. “I’m just - I’m fat.”

He averts his gaze from the ceiling - the closest he’d been able to come to making eye contact with Nandor - to the far wall, turning his shoulder slightly towards his bedmate.

“Hey,” Nandor says softly. He places two fingers under Guillermo’s chin and gently turns his head towards him, then waits for Guillermo’s eyes to finally meet his own. “Yes,” he agrees, “You are.”

The anxiety that’s been building in Guillermo’s chest turns to panic and betrayal in an instant. An involuntary cry escapes his throat as he snaps his head from Nandor’s hand and curls in on himself, turning his back to Nandor and hiding his softest parts away to himself as the moment he’s been dreading seems to finally be playing itself out. This is it, the moment when a family member or a friend or a date suggests that maybe he should skip dessert or offers him an unrequested guest pass to her gym or insists that he looked thinner in his profile photo - only the stakes are so much higher this time. This time it’s _Nandor_.

“Guillermo.” Nandor’s voice, louder than before, startles him. He pulls the sheets tighter around himself, sure that he’ll combust if made to face any more humiliation. Much to Guillermo’s displeasure, Nandor places a hand firmly on his shoulder and turns him back onto his back, then straddles his body beneath the covers. Guillermo looks up into Nandor’s eyes only to avoid staring at his bare chest and stomach, which seem a cruel taunt. “My beautiful Guillermo,” Nandor purrs. Guillermo flinches, but Nandor does not relent. “You are everything. You are strong, and brave, and loyal. And you are fat. And you are _breathtaking_.”

A rush of conflicting emotions renders Guillermo silent. Nandor, unfazed, continues. He shrugs the the covers back off his shoulders and sits back, hovering over Guillermo. He thumbs the hem of Guillermo’s sweater. “May I?” Guillermo swallows and nods, then leans forward as Nandor pulls the sweater over his head. Sweater discarded, Nandor turns next to Guillermo’s thin white button up shirt. Guillermo nods, then clenches his eyes shut tight as Nandor easily unbuttons and removes the shirt. If there were any blood left in Guillermo’s body, he would surely be blushing as he covers his face with his hands, overwhelmed with self-consciousness but fighting to stay present in the moment as he nods once more and Nandor slides his trousers down over his hips, off his legs, and onto the floor.

“There,” Nandor says at last. “Now we match.”

“Nandor,” Guillermo gasps, blinking back hot tears of embarrassment.

Apparently taking this as his cue, Nandor leans forward for a lingering kiss, his fingers tangling in Guillermo’s curls. “Precious Guillermo,” he incants.

Nandor trails his hands down Guillermo’s shoulders to the tops of his arms. Guillermo thinks of the stretch marks that lurk on his arms’ soft undersides; of the way his cardigans sometimes pull tight across their widest part; of how he hasn’t worn short sleeves in years, not since he noticed his arms jiggling as he cleaned the bathroom mirror. “Your beautiful arms, Guillermo,” Nandor says. His fingers knead the soft flesh. “Powerful, yet yielding. These arms that protect me from danger and also that give excellent hugs.”

Nandor slides his hands down Guillermo’s arms and takes his hands in his own. His thumbs trail over Guillermo’s fingertips. Guillermo thinks of his fingers rubbing against one another until the skin between them is dry, of the way they always swell in the heat, of his grandfather’s ring that hasn’t fit him in years. “Your beautiful hands, Guillermo,” Nandor says, and presses a kiss into each palm. “With these hands you have sliced bagels and you have pet cats. You have brushed my hair and you have slain my enemies. I want to hold your hands and yours alone until the end of time.”

Scooting back towards the foot of the bed, Nandor turns his attention to Guillermo’s legs. He trails kisses from Guillermo’s left ankle up to the inside of his thigh, then back down again along his right, his hands roaming. Guillermo twitches slightly at the thought of stretch marks and of cellulite and of chafing. “Your beautiful legs, Guillermo.” Nandor returns his attention to the softest parts of Guillermo’s thighs. “Here you are strong and succulent,” He murmurs in between nibbles. “Here, the only altar at which I shall worship”

Guillermo gasps in surprise when Nandor flips him over onto his stomach, grabs a generous fistful of cotton-covered flesh in each hand and exclaims, “Your beautiful ass, Guillermo!” Guillermo laughs softly as Nandor squeezes and jiggles, trying to put out of his mind his worries of jeans with torn seams and rippling cellulite. “Your abundant, juicy ass!” His voice turns more serious as he adds conspiratorially, “Guillermo. You are bootylicious.” Guillermo laughs again, and Nandor sighs softly. “Some night soon I shall give your booty the attention it deserves.” Without further comment, he flips Guillermo back onto his back, eliciting a shriek of surprise from the younger vampire.

The levity dissipates quickly when Nandor begins his assessment of Guillermo’s chest, dropping kisses along his décolletage and squeezing his soft breasts. Guillermo’s stomach clenches in shame and his eyes squeeze shut. He fails miserably to stop the onslaught of memories - keeping his shirt on at the beach, high school bullies leaving a bra in his locker, a boyfriend who only touched him with the lights off- “Your beautiful chest, Guillermo.” Nandor’s voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts, and he lets out a dry, self-deprecating laugh. “I look like an ugly woman,” he scowls. Something dark colors Nandor’s expression, as though he is preparing to conquer and pillage any fool who dared speak such lies to his Guillermo. “You look perfect,” he counters seriously. “My perfect, handsome Guillermo.”

Nandor squeezes Guillermo’s hips and nudges his face into his belly, nipping at the soft skin. Guillermo squirms. Here is his greatest physical weakness, his literal soft underbelly; to see Nandor seeing him sets every insecure thought he’s ever had ablaze with shame. Nandor - perfect, strong, masculine Nandor - is touching his fat belly, seeing the red stretch marks that paint his body with permanent evidence of his physical failings, kissing along the waistline that has been the favorite object of Guillermo’s self-loathing for as long as he can remember. Surely, this will be the last straw. No feelings Nandor may have could possibly overcome the glaring physical evidence that Guillermo is nothing but a _fat, lazy, unmotivated, disgusting_ -

Guillermo’s eyes fly open when Nandor’s gentle hand cups his face. “Hey,” he whispers. Guillermo can’t find his voice, but tries his best to offer a smile. He’s not sure he succeeds. Nandor brushes their lips together in the lightest of kisses, and whispers, “Your beautiful belly, Guillermo.” Guillermo flinches. “ _Beautiful,”_ Nandor insists, and kisses him again.

Finally, mercifully, Nandor, apparently realizing that Guillermo is quickly reaching his breaking point, pulls the covers back over them both and snuggles up next to him. “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he says softly. “You are so beautiful, Guillermo. Please, believe this.”

Guillermo swallows hard, and looks into Nandor’s eyes, searching for some hint of insincerity, some glint to suggest that this is all part of an elaborate joke. Finding none, he concedes, “I want to. And I - I believe that you believe it, Nandor. It’s just. It’s hard, y’know?”

“It is a start,” Nandor allows. He drops a kiss onto Guillermo’s cheek. “Do not worry, Guillermo,” he tries to reassure him, “You will see soon enough how sexy you are.” His earnestness draws a half-laugh out of Guillermo, and he adds in a whisper, “It will be o-a-kay. We have all time time in the world.”


End file.
